“Apparently neither does anyone else, but when I arrived, they were in poor repair, and I have done my best to keep them working since then. A thankless job, I must say, when a week’s work can be destroyed in seconds.” He tipped his hat to Carrie and then to Maris. “Good day, ladies.”
“Thank you for bringing us welcome news,” Arthur said.
“Let’s hope I don’t have to bring you any more bad news.” He sighed, then walked away.
“He was grim, wasn’t he?” Carrie shook her head. “It seems as if he goes from disaster to disaster. Poor man.”
Arthur offered one arm to her and the other to Maris. “Enough of Warrick’s gloom. Today is our festival. Shall we enjoy it?”
He was glad when both women laughed, though his happiness tempered when only Carrie took his arm. Maris held the boys’ hands and followed the baby wagon as they went in search of the fun the day could offer.
Chapter Thirteen
Maris was having a wonderful time, and the children grew more excited with every booth they passed. Arthur bought Bertie and Gil some cakes, which soon had the boys’ faces covered from top to bottom in frosting. Cool cups of cider quenched their thirst as they met the Nesbitts and the twins, who were eager to see some animals perform. Lady Caroline excused herself to take the baby to a shady spot, but the rest of them hurried to keep up with the youngsters.
They found a man was playing wooden pipes while a black-and-white terrier twirled about on its hind legs. When a monkey wearing a jeweled collar like the dog’s climbed onto the terrier’s back, the children applauded. They cheered when the dog finished its dance, and the monkey climbed onto the man’s shoulder. Arthur dropped coins into the hat the monkey held out.
As they turned to go and see what other entertainment they could find, Gil said, “Want a monkey.”
“We will see the monkey dance again,” Maris said, taking his hand.
He jerked away and stamped his foot. “Want a monkey!”
Astonished because the youngest boy was usually the calmest, least demanding one, Maris knelt in front of him. She folded Gil’s tiny fingers between her palms.
“So do I,” she said.
“You do?”
“Of course. A monkey is fun, isn’t it?”
“Yes! Want a monkey!”
She sighed. “But that is the only monkey here, and if we took it home with us, none of the other children would have a chance to see it dance with the dog. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”
On the little boy’s face, she read the thoughts rushing through his head, much as the monkey had scurried from person to person while collecting farthings and pennies. It was a risky question because Gil might well answer he did not care about the other children.
“No, but want a monkey.” Gil’s voice was sad instead of petulant.
“What if we make a stuffed monkey for you?” she asked. “Then you can make him dance. Or maybe we will make two. One for you and one for me.”
The little boy grinned. “Yes. Want a monkey for Gil. Want a monkey for Maris. Make now?”
“Let’s enjoy the fun here. We’ll make monkeys later.”
Gil ran to where children were watching a puppet show.
“That was brave of you,” Arthur said.
“I had to take the chance so he would stop fussing. I have seen Gil cares much about the other children, especially little Joy. I was sure he would choose correctly.”
“And if he did not?”
She laughed. “I figured I would cross that bridge when I came to it, and fortunately, it looks as if I will not have to.”
As the time grew closer for the ceremony that had given rise to the festival, people began to gather by the cliff overlooking the harbor. Arthur led the way through the crowd to where his brother was waiting.
“What happens now?” Maris asked, as she tried to wipe stickiness from the boys’ faces with a cloth she had dampened in one of the buckets of water scattered around the grounds.
“The fishermen must pay the Earl of Launceston or his representative one pure white oyster shell for the rights to fish from Porthlowen. The shell cannot have any colors in it other than white. It is their quit rent.”
“Quit rent?” She looked up at him. “I should know what that means, but I don’t.”
“A quit rent is something ‘paid’ in lieu of money or service to one’s feudal lord.”
“Why a pure white oyster shell?”
“I have no idea.” He chuckled, and she drew the sound into her memory so she could recall it later and savor it. “I cannot imagine why any earl would want a heap of whitewashed shells, but someone thought it was an inspired idea. So the payment for each boat is one white oyster shell.”
“What do you do with them?”
“Usually they are handed out the next day at dawn to the village children. They vie to see who can throw a shell the farthest. The one who does wins a prize.”
“Is that done so the same shells cannot be used again the following year?”
He shrugged. “I never thought about the reason, but you may be right. The fishermen say the opened shells must provide good feeding for fish, so it makes for a better haul on their next time out to sea. Everything has become connected through the centuries. To omit a single step would make the whole fall apart.”
“You like this!” She laughed and pointed a finger at him. “No matter how much you pretend otherwise, you like being part of the tradition.”
“Guilty as charged.” He winked at her before he moved forward to stand in front of the crews of fishermen who called Porthlowen their home harbor.
Nothing was announced, but nobody spoke while, as solemn as criminals walking to the gallows, the crew of the first boat stepped forward. One fisherman held out a white oyster shell, and Arthur nodded in acknowledgment. The man set it on the ground, then stepped back to allow the next crew to repeat the process. At last, after about ten minutes, the final crew’s representative set their white shell atop the others. The man abruptly grinned, and cheers erupted along the strand.
Maris applauded along with everyone else, while the children bounced up and down with excitement. They had no idea of the significance of the tradition, but they could not fail to sense the excitement.
His part done, Arthur picked up the shells so they would not be crushed beneath the crowd’s feet. He then moved aside so his brother could offer the blessing that was as much a centerpiece of the festival as the quit rent ceremony. After Parson Trelawney called out for everyone to bow their heads so he might bless the boats pulled up on the sand, he began the prayer.
“Heavenly Father, we ask You to look down this day upon the boats in Porthlowen Harbor and on the men who take them to sea day after day. We ask You to keep these men safe upon Your vast sea and to guide them to the harbor. Let them feel Your comforting presence when the waves are at their worst. We ask this in the name of Your son, Jesus Christ.”
A chorus of “Amen” was followed by more cheers as the crews climbed over the fence and raced down the hill. Arthur must have seen Maris’s bafflement, because he explained tradition held that whichever boat was the first to reach the sea beyond the cliffs would have the largest and most profitable catch during the next year.
As the crowd surged forward to watch, Maris held tightly to the boys’ hands so they did not get separated. She smiled when Arthur swung Bertie up to sit on the fence, then did the same to Gil. Soon the twins were beside them. As she kept her arm around Gil, while Arthur made sure Bertie did not fall, they yelled and hooted for the crews. The noise became deafening, resonating off the hills edging the cove as the boats were pushed out into the water. Shouts announced when the first boat made its way out of the cove, and the crews turned toward shore so they could join the rest of the day’s festivities.
Maris wondered if she had ever been happier than she was at this moment with Arthur. The weight of his friend’s death seemed gone from his shoulders, and he appeared almost caref
ree. She was not going to think beyond this minute when she could leave the past in the past and not worry about the future.
“Are you enjoying the day?” he asked as they lifted the boys off the wall.
“Yes.” She did not add that was because he was with her. When he smiled at her with his amazing light blue eyes, she knew he understood what she did not say.
And that seemed the most wondrous part of the whole day.
*
“Climb?” asked Bertie as Maris tucked him into bed a third time. In the bed beside him, Gil was listening eagerly.
“No one is climbing the pole again.” She patted his covers. “Not until next year.”
“Long time?”
She smiled. “The time will pass faster if you go to sleep.”
The two boys squeezed their eyes shut.
“Good night,” she whispered, kissing one, then the other on the forehead.
As she blew out the lamp, leaving the room awash in moonlight, she could not keep from looking at the spot where the twins’ beds had stood. The room seemed too empty after the girls’ beds were moved to the house on the other side of the cove.
She stepped out of the room and paused by the door, listening for sounds from within. In the central room of the nursery, the baby slept in her mahogany hanging cradle. She checked that Joy was covered with a light blanket, then, hearing nothing from the boys’ room, crept down the stairs.
Tonight, the day nursery would be easy to clean. The children had spent most of the day at the festival. It had been fun for all of them, and she guessed the boys would be talking about it nonstop for the next week.
Maris halted in the doorway when she saw Arthur in the day nursery. He wore an expression she had never seen on his face—a haunted hollowness mixed with a desperate yearning. Hurrying in, she asked, “Has something happened? Did you learn something about your friend? Or about the children? Arthur, what is it?”
“Maris, I am sorry.”
“Sorry?” Shock pierced her. “What is wrong?”
He shook his head. “No, that is not what I wanted to say. I am not sorry. No, that is not what I mean, either. By all that’s blue, why are words failing me now?”
Not caring that she was being too forward, she stepped closer to him. She put her hand over his heart. It leaped at her touch, and hers fluttered to echo it as if they were connected.
“Don’t worry about words, Arthur,” she whispered, gazing up into his hooded eyes.
“You are right. I should not worry about words.”
His arm curved around her, and he tugged her to him. She held her breath. Not that she could have released it if she tried. Every bit of her was focused on how his face was lowering toward hers. Knowing she should tell him to stop before they both did something foolish, she let her thoughts fade into a luscious warmth when his lips brushed hers. Gently but urgently, as if she were as fragile as dew upon a rose petal.
His gaze searched her face, but she had no time to think as he captured her mouth again. This time, his kiss was deeper, more tender. His fingers caressing her back invited her to be as bold. She lifted unsteady hands to his broad shoulders. Lightning seared her. When he cradled her against his strong arms, she let the tempest sweep her even closer. The thunder of her pulse careened through her, banishing every sensation but joy.
His lips left hers and sprinkled kisses across her face. In between each one, he whispered her name as if it were the answer to his most heartfelt prayer. Her hands framed his face, and she guided his mouth to hers. His kiss was everything she had ever wanted, even though she had not known until this perfect moment.
With a groan, he cupped her elbows and drew her arms away from him. Not looking at her, he said, “Maris, I am sorry. I should not have kissed you.” His eyes locked with hers as he growled, “No, I am not sorry I kissed you. I wish I could again and again and again for the rest of my life.”
“Arthur, don’t say that. Please.”
“I told you I would never lie to you. It is the truth, sweetheart.”
The endearment undid her. She wrapped her arms around herself as tears welled up in her eyes. She blinked them away as someone came into the nursery.
Lady Caroline! What if she had arrived a moment earlier and found Maris in her brother’s arms? Suddenly Maris understood why Arthur had pushed her away abruptly. He must have heard his sister approaching. Maris had heard nothing but the exultant beat of her heart.
“Arthur, did you tell her?” the lady asked with a frown.
“No,” he replied.
The siblings exchanged a look that told her they were not in agreement about whatever had brought the lady to the nursery at such a late hour. Strain underscored Lady Caroline’s voice when she said, “Miss Oliver, I would like to know if you can be ready the day after tomorrow to travel with us to Mr. Miller’s house.”
“Me?” She pressed her hand to her chest where her heart suddenly felt as dead as a lump of coal. “You want me to go to the hunt?”
Again Lady Caroline glanced at her brother, and again he said nothing.
The lady stepped forward and smiled. “Arthur does not agree with my plans, but I don’t want to be separated from Joy for the length of time we will be calling on the Millers. Neither would I separate Gil from his baby, and if I bring Gil, I cannot in good conscience leave Bertie behind in the nursery.”
“Elisabeth could bring Toby to play with the boy.” Arthur clipped off each word in a staccato tempo.
“But I cannot ask Elisabeth to watch Bertie, as well.”
Maris looked from one to the other. “Why would she need to watch Bertie? I will be able to, as I always do.”
“No,” Lady Caroline said firmly, “you will not be able to, because I will need you to come with me to take care of Joy and Gil when I am otherwise occupied.”
“You really want me to go to the hunt?” she asked, as she had before.
No! No! She wanted to shout those two words over and over until Lady Caroline listened. To go to the hunt where Arthur would be asking another woman to marry him was the cruelest torment she could imagine. Far worse than when Lord Litchfield had tried to force her to submit to him.
“I trust you can have the children and yourself ready to travel first thing in the morning the day after tomorrow,” Lady Caroline said.
“Yes.” No! No! No! Maris glanced toward Arthur, comprehending why he had told her he was sorry.
“Good.” She patted her brother’s arm. “See? I told you the matter would be resolved easily. Thank you, Miss Oliver.” She walked toward the door. “Coming, Arthur?”
“In a moment. I want to find out how much luggage must be added to the mountain you are bringing. I doubt children travel any lighter than you do.”
Lady Caroline laughed. “I suspect you are right.”
As the lady’s footsteps faded away down the stairs, Maris did not move.
Arthur closed the distance between them. Or he tried to, but she backed away. “Maris, I could not persuade her to change her mind. I am sorry. For that. I am not sorry I kissed you.”
“You are going to ask Lady Gwendolyn to marry you at the hunt.” Her voice was flat even in her own ears.
“Yes. I promised I would, and I cannot break a promise.”
As if from a great distance, she heard herself say, “I would not ask you to.”
“I wanted you to know—”
“No more.” She backed toward the nursery stairs. “Please do not say anything more, Lord Trelawney.”
Shock and dismay warred on his face in the second before she spun away and ran up the steps. She sought the refuge of her own room. Collapsing on her bed, she pressed her face to the covers. She should have heeded her own warnings. Lord Litchfield had hurt with his cruelty, but Lord Trelawney had hurt her with his love. That was far worse.
*
The two days that followed were the most miserable of Arthur’s life. A void from not having Maris and the children as part of his
daily routine left him on edge and uncertain. Now he was the one turning around and going a different direction if he saw Maris. No amount of apologies could atone for his toying with her affections. He was a cad, the exact type of man he had despised in London. Even sorrier than those fools, because Maris worked for his family. She must be concerned her position at Cothaire was in jeopardy. He wanted to reassure her, but to do that, he would have to talk to her.
And how could he talk to her when he wanted to tell her how much he loved her? She thought he was dallying with her, that his heart yearned to belong to Gwendolyn. If he told her the truth, his words might reach Gwendolyn and hurt her. Maris would not repeat them, but there was no place where they could be sure nobody was listening to their conversation.
His regret that he had wounded her, along with the knowledge that he was desperately in love with her, sent him to his knees. He laid out his emotions for God and, as before, sought guidance.
Arthur hoped God would send him an answer to his quandary before the hunting party at the justice of the peace’s house. He waited while arrangements were finalized for the journey. He waited as he again tried to talk Carrie out of taking the children and Maris, but relented when he brought his sister to tears.
He was still waiting for an answer to his prayers when the carriages and carts, laden with their trunks, pulled up to the front door. More than ever, he wished he had that answer when Maris walked past him without a glance in his direction. To anyone else, it would seem she was absorbed in the task of herding two small boys into the second carriage, but he knew better.
She was avoiding him, too. He had realized that yesterday when, unable to stay away any longer, he had gone to the nursery ostensibly to spend time with the children. Somehow, through the invisible lines of communication the servants used, she had known his intentions before he arrived, and was gone on some errand, leaving a maid to oversee the nursery in her absence.
As she stepped into the carriage, Maris looked serene, but he saw the truth in her eyes. She thought he considered her an easy conquest because she had let him kiss her when he was planning to marry another woman. If only she would give him a chance to tell her how wrong she was.
Love Inspired Historical October 2015 Box Set Page 41
